Dragon's Return
by Pinefur
Summary: Based off THE LAST DRAGON by Silvana de Mari. A new dragon appears, the one hatched from Erbrow's egg, although it wasn't old enough to form. With it Daligar is again sparked into turmoil. MAJOR spoilers for the book. Full summary inside.
1. Foreword Thingy

**For people reading this, this fanfic is based off The Last Dragon by Silvana de Mari. If you haven't read it, this fanfic is going to spoil the entire book and will probably make no sense whatsoever. You can still read it (and cough review cough) but it really will make a lot more sense if you've read it.**

** What happens in the book is that basically a young elf named Yorsh finds himself to be the last surviving elf in the world. A bunch of stuff happens and then finally he and this dragon named Erbrow help get a bunch of people to escape from the county of Daligar, which is a horrible place, but in doing so Erbrow - the last dragon in the world - is killed. ****(I told you it spoiled the whole book)****   
**

**Anyway, here's the summary of this fanfic.**

**Erbrow, the last dragon, was killed by the soldiers of Daligar while closing of the gorge and protecting Yorsh and the humans. With him, the entire race of dragons died out. Until his egg appears, the egg that was centuries premature. But with the sudden death of Erbrow, the dragon's spirit was somehow able to make the egg live, although it was only two months old, instead of centuries old like it should have been. But because of this, the baby dragon has a problem - it will always be miniature.**

**Then a child from the free village of Erbrow finds the dragon after managing the climb over the remains of the gorge. But with the reappearance of a dragon, the land is again sparked into turmoil, and a secret is uncovered that could mean greatness or disaster - that the race of dragons could be revived.**


	2. Prologue

**And so it begins. (...if anyone's even reading this...)**

He knew it was stupid.

He was a dragon. The dragon. The last dragon in the world. Dragons fought for nothing but themselves, they owed no one anything, especially not a ragged band of _humans_ and an elf. Loneliness had been part of the dragons' fate for eternity, and anyway, why would he miss these wretches? 

But the elf was Yorsh, who had cared for him and taught him to fly.

He stared down, seeing the elf's sword and Robi's crown glittering in the moonlight. They faced the army bravely, but there was no way they could win.

He couldn't do it. Couldn't leave them to be massacred.

_Death comes for everyone._

The bards would sing of the last dragon, the one who had brought the people toward their destiny – the place where people could be free. The voices of his ancestor rang in his head, scolding and berating him, but he blocked them out.

The dragon lifted his great wings and rose into the sky. He dived towards the edge of the gorge as arrows flew towards his unprotected belly. Pricks of pain stabbed through his flesh as the arrows met their mark and warm blood started to flow from the wounds. Then, with a deafening roar and a blast of blazing fire, he struck the muddy hill. Instantly the rocks and mud tumbled down in a flood of wet earth, closing off the gorge forever.

The dragon roared defiantly once more; then he fell from the sky as the tide of blood drained him of life. He collapsed in the mud, staining it red. He had not dreamed of dying, but of being able to live longer, to follow the humans and elf to their new land, despite the countless wounds and the blood-stained circle growing steadily around him.

Suddenly an image filled his mind, the first dream he had ever had. He saw himself as a child, a new hatchling, his head in the lap of his elfish companion in a meadow of daisies. Opening his eyes, the dragon saw he was surrounded by thousands of tiny flowers, blooming in the scarlet mud. A flicker of warmth filled him.

Then he closed his eyes, this time forever.

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The soldiers approached warily, the arrows on their bows still pointed at the dragon. The lifeless form did not move, and as they watched, blood stopped flowing from its myriad wounds.

The captain grunted. "There's no way to pass the gorge now," he growled, kicking the body of the dragon as he walked up to it.

A sudden shudder ran through the creature. The captain jumped back as giant green scales clinked together. The dragon's corpse rippled, paused for a heartbeat, then collapsed in on itself. Scales clattered onto the stones around it.

The captain muttered angrily. "We will leave now."

The soldiers glanced again at the dead dragon, then turned and followed their leader away from the gorge, back to Daligar.

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Silvery moonlight shone down on the muddy landscape as the men left. Once they were gone, everything was still. The dragon's body lay undisturbed on the slope.

A sudden crack broke the silence. The corpse twitched, then fell away to reveal a tiny egg. It was only the size of a coconut, the egg that in a few dozen more centuries would have been the dragon's to brood. But the dragon had only been a little more than two months old, scarcely enough time for the egg to even _begin_ to form, let alone form a whole dragon inside of it. No hatchling would come from this egg, an egg that had been from a dead two-month-old youngster.

But then the egg wobbled and fell over. It rolled down the hill, away from the great dragon's body, and smashed into a protruding rock. The soft shell tore open and deposited a tiny pine-green blob onto the muddy grass.

The slimy lump lay still for many heartbeats. Then it squirmed and turned over, opening two thin film-covered wings. It squeaked, letting out a burst of flame, and flopped around on the ground as though waiting for something to come pick it up.

Nothing happened. The little creature collapsed, whimpering. Hunger tormented it, but there was no food nearby and no dragon to feed it. It closed its golden eyes, and its breathing slowed. By the time the moon had reached the horizon and the soft light of dawn had appeared, it was motionless on the blood-stained ground.


End file.
